Apologies to all who worried, thank you to all who sent me texts, messages, mails, and pm's - you're very kind, but me, my dangly bits, and most importantly Flash have all featured in a bit of April fool's fiction in the name of humour... the following, I am most pleased to confirm, did NOT  actually happen... as if further proof were needed, may I draw your attention to the following factual errors that were put in to help give the game away...

 

1. Avicularia versicolor cannot jump anything like 4 FT. 12 inches tops, I'd say...

2. They hate contact with human skin, and were they to land on it would seek a way off it pretty much straight away.

3. There is no such thing as global 'Tarantula anti-venom'. If there was, 600ml of it in one go would be bound to kill anyone in itself, I would have thought!

4. Guildford Hospital, like all the others, bless them, have very much no idea what to do in the event of a spider bite.

5. Lastly, I must confess that no matter how concerned I might be for the spider and it's comfort levels, if its fangs are anywhere near my wedding tackle, my hands would be down there moving it somewhere else ! 

 

But here it is ,as it appeared on the 1st of April... 

 

 JW in near-death spider bite hospital embarrassment nightmare !!!

 

 

It is my unfortunate duty with the Spider Diaries, to report the bad with the good, and this is one of the times that could be described as 'the bad'... here I will relate the whole sorry tale...

 

It started late Saturday night as I woke up at 3 am (a normal experience for me, I assure you), and immediately felt the need to go check the spiders, again, as I usually do on starting my 'day'. I clambered out of bed wearing nothing but my boxer shorts and popped in to see the little guys and girls. So far so good. I went round and checked them and all was well until I tried to find Flash, my sub-adult avicularia versicolor, who was not visible at all in his inner tank. So I got out the tank, removed the lid, and had a better look in...

 

Well it seems she was watching me first, because seconds later I felt a small hairy bump on my leg to find that 'Flash' has jumped 4 ft out of her BIGGER tank (next to which I was sitting) landed on me, and then proceeded to run at full tilt up the leg of my boxer shorts, stopping in an area that was to cause me quite some concern. Naturally, I froze, as my spider instincts are trained to do in such situations.

 

The questions arriving in my head came thick and fast - What would she do ? What could I do ? Should I move ? Oh Lordy - what if certain bits of me move without my approval ! What if I get bitten THERE ! At this point I went slightly green.

 

I knew that in order not to get bitten I had to stay very very still, and the spider would then make its way out of its own accord, and everything would be fine. Alas if only this was the case.

 

I remained statue-like and stony-faced and awaited some movement.

 

Then I waited some more. All was still - little Flash, a 3" avicularia versicolor was nestled in my pubes, and seemed perfectly happy to be there. Further questions now presented themselves, notable examples being 'I need some help with this', 'how long can I hold this position?' & latterly ' pleeeease don't let it bite me'. At this point I registered movement 'downstairs'.

 

I reached down with my one free hand and ever-so-bravely (but ever so slowly and carefully) pulled aside my boxers to reveal the full horror of the situation. Little Flash, it would seem had chosen to set up home in my nether regions, and was busy frantically constructing a tube web using various parts of my anatomy as anchor points. I have to admit it was a very strange feeling indeed - not altogether unpleasant, but any arachno-eroticism the moment may have held was rather tempered by the new thoughts rapidly arriving, which began along the lines of 'Oh you have GOT to be joking'...

 

But no - 3 hours later, JW has cramps from staying still for so very long, and little Flash has made the beginnings of a new home complete with guy lines, and basic framework ! I REALLY do need the loo at this point. In my slightly delirious state of incredulity, my mind then hatched what was later proved to be a very bad plan indeed. I figured I needed a distraction to stop her webbing further, and to tempt her away from my newly scaffolded privates. There was a convenient tank of crickets within arms reach as 'luck' would have it, and like a fool of the highest order, I thought that if I caught one, and popped it somewhere close to her, she would run out, and off me, and grab it. With hindsight, I see the error of my thinking. The next bit is not for the faint of heart...

 

I managed to get hold of a cricket with great difficulty, and threw it to the best of my limited ability in her general direction.

Initially it seemed my plan might just work - the cricket ran right past her, and she turned as if to follow it ! And then she struck, 3 times in succession, quick as a flash, and missed the cricket altogether, instead embedding her fangs in the very worst part of me they could ever go. Alas, they were not dry bites.

 

Despite screaming like a girl - the pain was indeed unimaginable - my spider instincts allowed me to remain perfectly still out of concern for the spider and I didn't make any sudden movements that might have frightened her, and thank goodness, 20 minutes later she let go and removed her fangs from my testicles. I had lost several pints of blood at this stage, and could feel her lethal venom creeping through my system, and I knew that death was near. Not wanting to disturb the spider further I looked about me, reached out for a nearby pen and paper towels, and drafted my last will & testament, a note to my mum, and a quick poem that came to me in the passion of the moment.

 

The blackness started to overcome me, and I passed out.

 

I don't know how many hours later I awoke, but the situation had moved on. Flash had now constructed a complete tube web about my genitalia, and was happily wandering about webbing wherever she felt the need. Alas, I couldn't marvel at her prowess and awesome natural abilities, distracted as I was by the widening pool of blood in which I was lying, and by the foaming at the mouth which was becoming, quite frankly, excessive. It was at this point, that prompted by my plums swelling to the size of watermelons, I thought about hospital.

 

Thinking fast, and again not wanting to unnecessarily disturb the spider, I took a nearby roach tank, emptied it out, and strapped it crudely to my naked groinal area, such as I was able, with some helpfully nearby gaffa tape. This allowed the spider to go about its business in my private domain whilst containing it and protecting it should I move suddenly and cause it to lose its footing and fall.

 

I clambered painstakingly to my feet. Trousers were clearly out of the question - I'd have to go 'as is'... I did manage to find a T-shirt, thank goodness, but the ridiculousness factor was only marginally decreased, I can assure you. 

 

I grabbed my keys, and limped out of the door aiming for Surrey County General, where I hear they are sympathetic and discreet in such situations.

 

I have to say, cycling 7 miles with a tarantula strapped to your privates is not to be recommended. Bless her cotton socks, she was fine along the straight bits, but there were some choice bumps and corners in the road that caused the little darling to 'hang on' in the way they do when they feel all unstable, and she must have bitten me at least a further 27 times before I even reached Guildford. At this stage, delirious with pain, blood loss, vomiting, envenomation and exhaustion, I kept my strength and spirits up, and dare I say, my sanity intact by meticulously stopping to make notes about the bites I was receiving, and by loudly singing 'God save the Queen' as I furiously cycled to casualty as if my life depended on it, which of course, it did.

 

4 hours later, I heroically limped through the doors, my plums now resembling a pair of those once-popular 70s 'space hoppers', sure that the end was minutes away, and with every muscle in my body alive and on fire from the fatal chemicals coursing through my blood stream. Thank goodness, the spider was undisturbed, and sitting at the entrance to its new burrow, awaiting dinner.

 

I explained to the doctors what had happened and they understood entirely, and knew exactly what to do.

 

After the photos, a full medical emergency was issued, and I was immediately rushed to intensive care where they gave me morphine for the pain, 600ml of tarantula anti-venom and began making a small custom-made sling for my manhood. I was adamant at this point that the spider should not be disturbed while I was being 'set' in plaster, so the doctors worked around little Flash's tube web, and fitted the 'nob-sling' as planned.

 

Shortly after, my life flashed before my eyes, and I again lost consciousness.

 

8 hours later, I am pleased to report that the spider is doing well, and has remained largely undisturbed throughout the night, despite what the doctors describe as my 'pain spasms', and 'death rolls'. Bless them, they had remembered to reattach the protective cockroach enclosure. They were all very surprised and relieved to see me wake up, and told me that it was touch and go all the way.

 

And now I face an uncertain future as I get used to life with a tarantula in my trousers. She seems happy enough, as am I, of course to use the helpful catheter the doctors fitted, which connects to a handy little bag I can carry round with me wherever I go ! A small price to pay, I feel, to know I have a happy spider. My mum has been in to visit and is already drawing up the patterns for some specially adapted trousers that will allow me to go about my business as normal in public.

 

I will update this report from time to time, and may shortly feature in a channel 5 documentary to be aired very late at night.

 

May we all learn from this, and remember to wear our trousers before we feed the spiders !! I was lucky to escape alive.